New York Dispatch

ARRESTED
ON HIS WEDDING DAY.
BY AN ENGLISH EX-DETECTIVE

CHAPTER I.
MAJOR BOND'S DAUGHTER.

I was on a case once that gave me a great deal of trouble—the alleged murder of a gentleman named Lloyd. The crime was so shrouded in darkness that it seemed as if all the ingenuity of man would fail to throw any light upon it.

In the course of a week I succeeded in gleaning a few particulars about the murdered man's habits, and also learned something of his associates: but I had not discovered anything, except half a gold sleeve-link, that could give me the faintest clew to the person who had committed the crime.

I was the last of the men engaged on the case to make my report, and the chief, rising to his feet, and doffing his spectacles, said:

"Well, Crinly, it seems to be a very dark business. But you've done a great deal more toward unravelling the case than any of the others, and I think you'd better make it a special case."

That was a compliment, but it looked as if no further credit could be gained in the inquiry.

However, I thanked the chief, and, in my own mind, I resolved that if the murderer of Mr. Lloyd was in England I would lay hands on him, or her, before I finally gave up the hunt as useless.

It's odd how things fall out sometimes. I did arrest the murderer, after all, but I did it by the help of another, who almost placed the party in my hands. I'll tell you how it happened.

If you had known Miss Bond, as I did, you would not have thought her a wicked woman, I am sure. She was the daughter of a military officer who had served many years in India.

He appeared to have gained a great many rupees out there, and to have come home to spend them when gout and a disordered liver rendered him unfit for further service. He had got a wife out there, too—an English lady in Madras—but she died in giving birth to her only child, Hilda, the young lady I have mentioned.

When I knew her, Hilda Bond was very beautiful. She had all the airs of a princess, and whenever she was vexed by anything, her large dark eyes would glitter as if there was fire in them, and she could kill you with a glance.

Yet she was so beautiful and so accomplished you would not think she was wicked, or could be really wicked. But there was a devil in her heart. I learned that afterward, and that devil would not shrink from murder to gratify its own hate or vengeance.

But you must not think Hilda Bond was all devil. No, her bad passions only appeared when anything aroused them strongly. She had a tender place in her heart, and she could love as deeply and as passionately as she could hate.

Though he suffered a great deal from his ailments, Major Bond lived in good style. He and his daughter were welcome visitors at the houses of all the rich and fashionable people they knew. At home he kept what one might call an open house. His friends, and any friends they chose to introduce, might call at any hour, and always be sure of hearty entertainment.

He had a passion for play, which was, perhaps, developed during his long residence in the East. The cards and the dice were often plied in his own private room during whole nights, and the fact that the major was always open to play, attracted to his house some gentlemen who were decidedly fast, if not absolutely reckless, in their manner of living. When the major was indisposed to play, he would not prohibit sport to his intimate friends. On such occasions Hilda was the queen of the house, and she often filled her father's place at the gaming table when he would be confined to his room.

Among others, the murdered Mr. Lloyd was like the major, in his love of gaming. He was a very frequent visitor for that purpose only. I learned that he had left the major's house only half an hour before his dead body was discovered on the street about half a mile away, in the "wee short hour ayont the twal," or about one o'clock.

There had been high play that evening, and Mr. Lloyd had lost heavily to several gentlemen and to Hilda Bond, the major being absent. Mr. Lloyd had been the first to leave the house, but the other gentlemen soon followed. Of course they were questioned, but none of them had seen Mr. Lloyd after leaving Major Bond's, nor did they know anything more of him, until they learned next day that his body had been found with the face smeared with blood, and the skull fractured, as if by a blow from some blunt instrument. The fatal injuries were but recently inflicted, and the property on the person of the dead man had not been tampered with. Apparently Mr. Lloyd's assailant had been disturbed before any plunder could be secured.

I have said that Hilda Bond could love as deeply as she could hate. I may add to that, and say she did love. All the affection of which her passionate nature was capable was bestowed on Charles Banks, who was a young gentleman calculated to inspire love in any female bosom.

Charles Banks was as open as day in his demeanor, and as good looking as any young fellow I ever knew. But he was a bit of a rake notwithstanding. Among his friends, however, he was very particular in his conduct, and was liked wherever he was known. Major Bond was one of his friends, and the major's daughter soon learned to regard him as more than a particularly dear friend.

Charles toyed and laughed with Hilda as a man might who knew the love entertained for him, and encouraged the feeling. But he had no love to give in return. His affection had been bestowed before he knew Hilda. Some months passed over before she knew that he was not only formally engaged to her friend Elizabeth Dyer, but that the date on which their marriage should take place was actually fixed.

Elizabeth Dyer herself was the first to enlighten Miss Bond on the point.

"To be married! And to Mr. Banks!" she exclaimed, as if the intelligence had affected her like a stab.

"Yes, Hilda. But how strangely you speak, and how pale you look!" said Elizabeth, regarding her friend with surprise and alarm.

"Do I look pale, dear? It is nothing but a moment's pain in my breast. It is over now. But your news has surprised me. I knew, of course, that Mr. Banks was an old friend in your family, but I did not know you were engaged to be married," she said, recovering her outward composure, though a fire of hate and jealousy was at that time raging in her heart.

"Oh, we were engaged more than a year ago—before Charlie's father died," replied Miss Dyer. "But, of course, we did not make any to-do about the matter for a year, and I dare say some friends who knew it have quite forgotten the circumstance. But dear Charles is such an impetuous fellow, that father and mother could not hold out against him any longer, so the day is fixed. Of course you will be my bridesmaid, Hilda?"

"I shall be delighted. But you will give me a few days before you ask me to make a positive promise?"

"Yes, but I shall think your promise is already given. I declare, Charles is here!"

A second or two later Charles Banks entered the room. He halted before he had relinquished the door, and looked much surprised indeed when he beheld his affianced, Elizabeth Dyer, and Hilda Bond seated together, and engaged in confidential conversation.

"Elizabeth—Miss Bond—I hope I am not spoiling your very interesting confidences."

"No, Charles; we were chatting as girls will chat when they meet. I am sorry Miss Bond does not appear in her usual spirits to-day."

"I also am sorry for that. Not any serious affection, I hope, Miss Bond?"

"Only a passing pang, thank you, Mr. Banks. I must hasten home, or my presence may cloud the happiness of others."

Hilda rose as she spoke. She was still looking somewhat pale and troubled, but there was steely hardness in her voice and a fire in her eyes which Mr. Banks had never observed before. She went away immediately.

It would not be at all easy to analyze the feelings of Hilda Bond when she left the presence of the happy pair. Such natures as hers are moved by the extremes of opposite passions with amazing rapidity.

What a change had been wrought in her being during that short visit to Elizabeth Dyer, her bosom friend and confidante! How her heart had been torn by the discovery she had made! How the last flickering hope of possible success had died within her the moment Charles Banks appeared and she heard the fond and familiar interchange of names between him and Elizabeth Dyer! She instantly realized that all the hot passionate love she had lavished on this man had been thrown away. And should she be so treated?

Did he not know that she loved him? Had he not encouraged that love? He had. He had treated her as a toy for his amusement. He had played with her love, which was the care of her life, while all the time his affection was given to another. Her heart was in his hand, but it was lightly cast aside and spurned as a thing of no worth. And for whom? That fair-faced blue-eyed girl, whose smile now denied her more than a scorpion's sting. This madness she could not endure.

The love that Charles Banks had slighted was turned to hate. The agony he had caused of pain—she would inflict on both would be but little in comparison with that she endured. She knew Charles Banks—she knew more of him than other people perhaps—and her knowledge would help her secure the revenge her heart hungered. But she would be cautious—she would be slow to make her stroke sure—and she would find she was not merely a creature to be played with and then cast aside.

Such were the thoughts that flashed through Hilda Bond's mind during her walk homeward.

Two days later Charles Banks called at Major Bond's as usual. The major was still suffering from an acute attack of gout, and Hilda did the honors of the house.

Charles found Hilda beautiful as ever; yet there was something in her manner which con- cerned him unlike the woman who had formerly received him with such warmth and friendliness. She was seated alone in the drawing-room when he entered.

"I have heard of your approaching marriage Mr. Banks," she said, after the usual civilities had been exchanged.

"I wonder you did not mention it to such friends as my father and me," she continued.

"I suppose I ought to have done so," he re- plied, "but when I was here last, there were so many friends present, that I could not get a private word with Major Bond. I came to men- tion it to-day."

"My father will be honored, sir, and I sup- pose a little of the honor is intended for me. I assure you I can appreciate the honor as it ought to be appreciated, Mr. Banks."

"You speak strangely, Miss Bond. I confess that you surprise me and puzzle me. This is not your usual manner!" said Charles, who was really puzzled and perplexed.

"I may not appear to you precisely as I did a few days ago, Mr. Banks. I need not explain why," she said, rising, while the smoldering fire in her eyes seemed to scintillate. "You will perhaps understand me when I say I am not in my most amiable mood to-day. Go, Mr. Banks, and seek more kindly treatment at the hands of your bride that is to be. But remember, mar- riage is a serious step, and to you it may be more than usually serious. You may repent, perhaps. Think well of what you do, but be assured I shall be present at the ceremony to witness your happiness."

As Hilda spoke she extended her arm toward Banks and he shrank from her unknowingly, for he could not divest himself of the belief that her words conveyed a menace. She swept from the room proudly as an empress, leaving Charles Banks speechless with astonishment, yet tortured by a fear that this beautiful wo- man might now be his enemy, and would really try to work him some mischief, to which she had so vaguely alluded. He tried to banish such apprehension from his mind as ground- less. He partially succeeded, but it would not wholly leave him, and when he left the house soon after, he was unquiet and uncomfortable.

CHAPTER II.
SEEKING A COMPLETE REVENGE.

Two weeks went by, during which the rela- tions between the Bonds and the Dyers continued in their way. If any change could be remarked, it was that the young ladies of the two families had become more constant friends than hereto- fore. Hilda Bond drove or walked over to Dy- er's three and four times a week. That, how- ever, did not provoke comment, as the news of Miss Dyer's approaching marriage was wide- spread, and it was known that the dark-eyed beautiful Hilda was to be chief bridesmaid.

Yet there was a change in two of the persons with whom we are concerned. They were Hil- da Bond and Charles Banks.

Only those who were on intimate terms with the major's daughter could notice any change in her. Her character appeared to have ac- quired a stronger fibre than it formerly pos- sessed. Her spirits were less airy, and she acted as a woman who had a purpose in her life. In Charles Banks an alteration was more noticeable. He was not always so gay, open, and contented as he had been. Sometimes his look was troubled and unsteady. His face, that used to be clear and cheery as a Summer sky, was sometimes clouded, and he appeared to his friends to have some disturbing thought in his mind, which he did not wish any other to share.

Elizabeth Dyer was the first to notice this change in Charles, and she spoke to him on the point two or three times. He, however, only replied to her questions with a laugh, and said jestingly:

"The happy responsibilities of married life may have cast some of their sobering shadows before."

But Elizabeth's mind was not satisfied with such jesting explanations. She felt, with the in- tuition of love, that there was some cause of disquiet in existence, and that conviction, un- defined as it was, troubled her as much as more precise knowledge might have done.

At length came the day of the marriage—that morn on which only happiness should reign in the hearts of bridegroom and bride. The ar- rangements for the ceremony had been made in a sumptuous manner, though some degree of privacy was to be observed. Hilda Bond was the chief bridesmaid, according to arrange- ment, and she looked more brilliantly, more imperiously beautiful than Elizabeth Dyer her- self.

Before going to the carriage that was await- ing her, Elizabeth went into her mother's bou- doir to receive her parting embrace. The lady was sitting on a couch, and Elizabeth, obeying an impulse she could not resist, flung herself on her knees at her mother's feet in the attitude of a petitioner more than that of a bride about to be wed to the man she loved.

"Bless me, mother," she said—”and pray that I may be as happy with Charles as you and pa have been."

"My darling, I do bless you, and I shall pray for your happiness. But you are almost in tears. This is not the face to wear at a bridal, my love. Kiss me. There, dear, do not be so nervous and shaken. You should be very happy. Now go, and I am sure heaven will send you all the blessings you desire."

Elizabeth went, greatly cheered by this somewhat grave, motherly address. Her father accompanied her to church, the bridesmaids following in another carriage. Arrived at the church, they found Charles Banks, the grooms- man, and a few friends awaiting them.

When the marriage service had been read, and the register duly signed, the party returned to Mr. Dyer's house, the leading carriage being occupied by the newly-wedded pair, as a matter of course.

The wedding breakfast was set out with all the elegance which distinguishes that meal in the higher circles of society. The cake was cut, the wine was sipped, and the congratulatory and hopeful speeches appropriate to the occa- sion were duly delivered. Then the bride- groom and the bride arose. The latter left the drawing-room attended by her mother and Hilda Bond, to go to her chamber and change her bridal garments for attire more suitable for traveling, as they were to depart on their wed- ding trip at three o'clock.

But now an incident occurred which, in a terrible way, changed the spirit of the scene.

As the bride was leaving the drawing-room, she picked up her wedding-bouquet, which had lain on a sideboard during breakfast. As she went through an ante-room beyond, she noticed a coil of pale green paper among the flowers. She thought it had been surreptitiously placed there by her husband, and her heart thrilled with pleasure as she drew it out. She unfolded the little coil and glanced at the words that were written upon it. She stopped short; her heart seemed to cease beating; her eyes dilated as they were fixed upon the paper with horror. The flush faded from her cheek, and she uttered one long, wailing shriek, then fell senseless on the floor.

All this had occurred in a few seconds, but when the bride's shriek rang through the room, almost accompanied by a cry of anguish from her mother, the few wedding guests sprang from their chairs and hastened to the spot.

A medical gentleman who happened to be one of the party was the first upon the scene. He snatched his watch from his pocket, sank upon one knee, and tried the pulse of the insensible bride, who lay there, white and still, as if her spirit had flown ere her bridal veil had been removed.

"What happened? What caused this?" questioned the doctor, hastily.

"I do not know, doctor. She drew a piece of paper from her bouquet, and while reading some words on it she shrieked and fainted," replied Mrs. Dyer, brokenly.

"Where is the paper?"

"It dropped from her hand when she was falling."

"Is this it?" he asked, holding up the strip of pale green paper he had drawn from under Elizabeth's dress.

"Yes, that is it, doctor. What terrible words are on it!

"Terrible indeed!" said the doctor, after a glance, during which his face assumed a most sombre expression. "This must be some barbarous trick. The words are: Elizabeth, the man you have wed is a murderer."

"What, doctor? A lie, a trick, a barbarous, damnable trick! Who has done this? Where is Hilda Bond?" cried Charles Banks, hoarsely.

It was then noticed that Hilda Bond had dis- appeared, but immediately after the mention of her name she came from the drawing-room.

"I am here, Mr. Banks," she said.

"Do you know anything of this paper, Miss Bond?"

"I do; I wrote it, and I am prepared to sup- port the accusation," she replied, her cheeks flushed, her eyes gleaming with malignant light, and an unmistakable ring of triumph in her tones.

Charles Banks stared at her a few moments in horrified amaze.

"You fiend!" he hissed at length. "Why have you done this?

"You invited me to your wedding, and I told you I would be present to witness your happi- ness. I am here; but I have a second purpose, which is to promote the ends of justice.

"You are a monster, but you will yet be foiled," said Charles, while he spoke unheeding the presence of two men who now appeared at the door.

"I charge you, Charles Banks, with the mur- der of Mr. Lloyd, and I do it here for reasons you can conceive," Hilda said, aloud.

"I have heard the charge and I must arrest you, Mr. Banks," I said, stepping forward and speaking as lowly and politely as I could, under all the circumstances.

You wonder that I should be there just then. I suppose, and I must explain in a few words.

That very morning a sealed packet had been handed to our superintendent, and when he read it he called for me.

"Something more about the Lloyd murder case, Crinly. This seems to be real business. Read that," and he placed the letter in my hand.

I read:

"At two o'clock to-day, August 5, the mur- derer of Mr. Lloyd may be seized. Send men with necessary warrants. Enter the house No. 5 Mordant Crescent, when a white paper cross is placed against the window of drawing-room. Do not enter before that signal is given. HILDA BOND."

I took another detective, and left two plain- clothes constables to wait near the door of the house. I demanded admission and arrested the accused as I have described.

Mr. Banks made no resistance when I pro- duced my warrant. He looked like a man who has been dazed by a thunderbolt. I shall not say anything about the truly heartrending scene in that house while we waited for the cab I had directed one of the constables to bring to the door. We drove away with our prisoner, and I do not think I ever arrested a man under cir- cumstances that made me feel so pitiful.

At the trial, Hilda Bond's story was very sim- ple and very convincing. On the night of the murder, Charles Banks called at Major Bond's house soon after one o'clock. Her father's friends frequently called at very late hours. She admitted him, and she noticed that he ap- peared excited and heated. His dress was crumpled and disordered.

When he entered the parlor she saw his linen wristband hanging as if it had been pulled vio- lently. She spoke of these things, when he said hastily he had been in a scuffle, that one of his sleeve-links was broken, and the half of it lost. The sleeve-links were of Indian manu- facture, and curiously engraved—a pair she had given him. When she read of the curious half link that had been found near the mur- dered man, she knew it must be one of those she had given Mr. Banks, and when she re- membered the time he called at her father's house and the excited state in which he was, she concluded that he must have hastened from the spot where the body was found.

Charles Banks confessed that Hilda's charge was correct in every particular except that of murder. He was returning from a club dinner some time past twelve, when he met Mr. Lloyd. He spoke to him, but Mr. Lloyd replied insult- ingly. He learned that he had lost heavily at play, and Mr. Lloyd said he had been "plucked" by unfair tricks like those Mr. Banks had often practiced. Mr. Banks was enraged. He asked his accuser to withdraw his false and insolent charge. When he merely repeated it, Mr. Banks struck him in the face with his fist. He struck him very heavily, and Mr. Lloyd clutched at him, but fell, his head crashing against the edge of the curbstone. He then hurried from the spot and called at Major Bond's, as he should pass the house on his way home. He was horrified the next day to learn that Mr. Lloyd had been found dead.

The jury acquitted Mr. Banks on the charge of willful murder, but he was found guilty of manslaughter, and received a sentence which might have been much lighter if he had en- deavored to conceal the crime.